Halfway There
by MG12CSI16
Summary: He only plays Bon Jovi when Cas is in the car. Preslash.


Another one shot, this time it's preslash (or it was supposed to be), but feel free to interpret it as friendship.

Warnings: rated for Dean's inner monologuing and alcohol.

* * *

**Halfway There**

He really hopes he's dreaming right now. If he's not he's sure to have nightmares when he actually does fall asleep tonight. He watches for a few more seconds, cringes and lifts the frosted glass to his lips. He drains his beer in one gulp and wishes it would block out the sound of this hell he was currently in but the riff of the guitar over the gravelly speakers signals the upcoming chorus and he holds his breath as a staggering Sam grips his microphone a little tighter and Castiel looks completely lost on the makeshift stage they're standing on.

Dean was never a huge Bon Jovi fan (the occasional song would catch his attention and get stuck in his head every once in a while but he stills prefers the head banging, spine tingling sound of Metallica. He only listens to it when Cas is in the car anyways) but after watching this crock of shit he makes himself a reminder to get rid of the cassette tape nestled in the Impala's glove compartment.

There's no way he could take it seriously anymore and his head drops into his hands where he tries to massage away a growing headache. This time it isn't even from the alcohol. When he looks back up to the stage Sam and Cas are belting the words to Living on a Prayer and Sam looks dangerously close to tumbling off the edge as he tries to simultaneously play air guitar and Cas is swaying in his own awkward attempt to move to the music, head bobbing back and forth.

Dean smiles at his innocence and lack of understanding in this world but it quickly fades when their wailing(that slightly reminds him of a cat getting run over, or Bobby when he sang in the shower) grows louder and Sam has now taken to singing the guitar parts as well while Castiel stumbles over the words with a tongue that probably feels like rubber in his mouth. Dean suddenly feels slightly guilty about the rounds of tequila shots he ordered and forced Cas to drink. Their last hunt had been exhausting and emotionally draining. He just figured they all needed to forget for a while.

_"Dean I don't mean to disappoint you or disrespect your generosity in buying me this drink but as an angel of the Lord-"_

_"Cas for once don't be such a puss. Just drink it." He had slid the glass brimming with the burning clear liquid across to the man in the trench coat and tossed his own back, barely noticing the fire in his throat but relishing the warmth quickly spreading through his veins._

_Cas had taken one uncertain look at it before he mimicked Dean, only when he swallowed he dissolved into a fit of coughs and sputters and his eyes watered fiercely. Sam had stifled a laugh and Dean had clapped him on the back in a mix of sympathy and pride._

That had been three shots and half a beer ago and all feelings of pride have been melted away by the sound coming from him now.

When the song finally ends Dean exhales a sigh of relief, stands up and slides the bartender a bill with an apologetic smile and an overwhelming urge to get the hell out of here. The beefed up man with a dangerously receding hair line and a towel thrown over his shoulder just chuckles and swipes up the money.

"Son, this ain't nothing I haven't seen every other day. Nothing to be embarrassed about;free entertainment is what I call it." He chuckles and disappears as another patron calls from the other end of the counter and gives Dean a nod. Then Dean lets out a growl because he doesn't know how the hell he's going to get two fully grown, equally trashed men all the way back to their hotel room across the street and he adds another note to his mental to do list. When Sam woke up tomorrow Dean was going to give him hell about this.

The next ten minutes are just as hellish as the past hour and a half as he half carries Cas and has the strong urge to just drag Sam by his hair he refuses to cut. Their dingy hotel isn't far, the town they're in (some shit hole in Iowa) is small and everything is relatively packed close together. He can see the neon sign just ahead, reaches into his pocket and digs out the key while propping Sam up against the wall.

He manages to bump the door open with his hip before Sam can slide all the way to the floor and he shoves his baby brother inside before carrying Cas across the threshold and lets him flop face down on the bed before he dissolves into a fit of muffled giggles. Dean rolls his eyes and turns to Sam already half asleep on the other bed, pulls the comforter over his long body and sets the ice bucket beside him in case the nausea sneaks up on him in sleep.

With his brother taken care of he goes back to Cas who seems wide awake with his coat now on the floor and slowly recovering from the alcohol in what Dean thinks is some sort of record.

_Must be that 'angel of the Lord' shit_ he tells himself.

He doesn't think anything of it, the fact that Castiel has his eyes glued to him as he strips his shirt off and reveals tan, taught skin covering rippling muscles and the pink, shiny hand print burnt into his flesh he won't admit still delivers a stab of pain now and then. He feels the heat of Cas' gaze as he tosses the shirt that smells like sweat and cheap booze and pulls on a white one with a frayed hem. He chews the inside of his cheek and looks back at the angel on the bed.

"You should go to sleep. Gonna have one hell of a headache in the morning, God's disciple or not."

"I don't need sleep."

"Oh yeah. Lucky bastard." He hears a soft murmur, unsure if it was an unsure agreement or just to let Dean know he was listening.

"I like Bon Jovi," Cas says softly, suddenly, "but I don't see the point of what we were just a part of." He rubs a hand over his face as if he's confused. It's a safe bet that he is.

Dean fights a smile and turns on the sink. "Its called alcohol my friend. And you only knew the words because it's the only song you ever ask me to play."

He never tells Sam this because it blatantly breaks the 'shotgun shuts his cake hole,' rule but he can't help it because it's Cas and his voice is always so soft when he makes the request. As if he's afraid he'll strike a nerve. He knows the first time he asks that the cassette is collecting dust and that Dean hasn't touched it in a long time.

_"What is this song?" He points to the radio as if Dean doesn't know where the noise is coming from, smirks slightly to hide the discomfort showing in his eyes. His fingers are itching to tap along._

_"Its Bon Jovi man. Livin' on a Prayer."_

_He watches the fascination light up Castiel's features, he listens to every word right down to the last beat of the drum and when it stops he looks at Dean with panic on his face, demanding, "play it again."_

_Dean just rolls his eyes and grips the wheel a little tighter._

_"It's the radio Cas, I can't make it play it again." It had been something in his eyes, the sad and pleading look Sam had given him more than enough times as a kid and Dean just puffed out a breath between his teeth, knee pressed up against the steering wheel while he reached for the box in the back seat._

_He pulls out what he's looking for and shoves it in the slot and the next three hours are spent listening to the track on repeat and ignoring the urge to cram something up Sam's nose when his snoring reaches a ridiculous volume._

"Why do play it for me if it makes you sad?" Cas suddenly wonders, watching the drops of water stick to Deans face and the stubble slowly growing on his cheeks and throat. The other man shrugs, drying his face.

"It makes you happy, doesn't it?"

Cas nods, eyes uncertain.

"Well I like seeing you happy. 's not really rocket science." He teases. There's foam around his mouth from toothpaste now, he spits just as Cas asks him a question.

"What makes you happy Dean?"

There's no hesitation. "Pie."

He almost drops his toothbrush when he sees Cas actually rolls his eyes at him through the mirror. "Besides pie."

Again there's not much hesitation."Bacon."

He watches Cas ponder his answer with knitted eyebrows as he slips under the blanket and Dean flips the bathroom light off before he grabs one of the pillows Cas has his feet on and moves to the tiny sofa across the room. He settles in as best he can (sometimes there were advantages to not having Sam's giraffe legs) and closes his eyes. He's thankful when sleep claims him quickly and Cas stops asking him questions.

...

For a moment Dean forgets that the sun rises really fucking early during the summer and the cheap curtains covering their window do little to keep the golden rays out. He blinks against them, squinting to see the clock on the table. It's just after eight. He curses and rolls off the couch, noticing for the first time that only one bed is occupied and Sam is snoring on the one closest to the door. He berates himself for the worry that momentarily clutches his chest (Cas is more or less a grown ass man) and goes to check in the bathroom just for the hell of it but a yellow sticky note on the mirror catches his attention.

_Dean, there's a diner down the street. Join me if you wake up._

It scrawled out in Cas' chicken scratch and Dean crumples it up in his hand, tugs on some jeans and slips on his sneakers before he walks to the curtains and pulls them back dramatically.

"Wakey, wakey Sammy!" He yells just a bit too loud and Sam groans, hiding his face under the blanket. Dean pulls it back and tries hard not to laugh at his baby brother.

"I'm going to grab some food. Get your ass up and pop an aspirin before I get back." With the warning out for Sam to process in his haze Dean slips out the door and sees the diner Cas mentioned tucked away on the corner.

It reminds Dean of the rest of this town, run down and slowly falling apart but it has a homey atmosphere that makes Dean relax and he sees the back of Cas' dark head when he scans the mostly empty booths. Shoving his hands in his pockets he walks up behind him but the sight of the table has him choking on his greeting.

"Cas, what the hell is this?" Dean sputters. The table is covered in plates and they all hold greasy strips of bacon while Cas beams proudly and shows no signs of the hangover Sam currently has.

"It's bacon." He says happily. Dean finally manages to close his mouth and takes the seat across from him.

"I see that but why?" He pulls one of the plates closer, picks up a strip and pops it into his mouth while Cas continues to smile and answers like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"It's my turn to make you happy."


End file.
